


10 Supernatural Prompt Fills

by Miss_Writers_Block



Series: Supernatural Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Chuck is God, Demon Dean, Demon Dean is kind of scary, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Use of Ancient Egyptian Mythology, Hurt/Comfort, Impala, Kid Fic, Lucifer is Called Hayel, Mark of Cain Angst, Men of Letters Bunker, Nesting, Nesting Angels, Original Child Character(s) - Freeform, Probably alot more tears than strictly necessary, Prompt Fill, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing Clothes, at least how i depict him, but lets be honest supernatural does that all the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Writers_Block/pseuds/Miss_Writers_Block
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1 - 10</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so my Original Female Character is named Christian and she is Castiel's angelic twin. I know it sounds kind of ridiculous, but I have been developing her character for a couple of years now and I'm really proud of her. I just hope you enjoy her as much as I do.  
> PS. I'm using the lovely Zooey Deschanel as my OC's actress.

They first heard the noise, like a firework as it streaks across the sky, a loud and horrible screech. The two brothers had just enough time to shut their eyes before a bright and powerful light flooded the room, accompanied by a loud pop. Black spots danced across their vision for a good minute, all the while they could hear subtle crashing sounds coming from the direction of the crappy little kitchenette. When they could finally see clearly they were shocked by what they found.  
The uncomfortable pair of chairs were turned over and the tiny table was misplaced, Christian was crumpled in the middle of the mess, scarlet staining her skin and clothing. Sam and Dean exchanged a quick, worried glance before they descended, pulling the limp figure from the floor and laying her out across Dean’s bed.  
“Chris! Chris! Hey Christian! C’mon angel, wake up!” Dean called, shaking the blue-eyed beauty. Up close he could see the full extent of her injuries. Dark purple wrapped around her neck, rope burn and blood surrounded wrists and ankles, large gashes cut deep into her torso, leaving her clothes in shreds.  
He felt his blood boiling under his skin, painting his vision with red. The instinct to kill rose up in him and he grit his teeth against the sensation, clutching at her coat so hard that his knuckles turned white.  
Big sapphire eyes flew open and the angel sucked in a pained breath, her delicate features twisting into a complete look of agony. Sharp, hacking coughs forced their way past her bruised lips, staining them and the inside of her mouth red. Dean quickly pulled her into a sitting position and he felt his anger burn white hot in his veins when he saw the lacerations across her back. They were bleeding sluggishly still, and the once mustard yellow sheets of his bed were stained with it.  
Her coughs subsided and she laid her bruised hands on the side of his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “Alistair,” she whispered, “He’s coming. I’m so sorry, Dean, I led him right to you. But I didn’t have anywhere else to turn.” She stumped forward after that, like a puppet that had had all their strings cut at once.  
Dean cursed but turned to Sam, who was partially paralyzed in what looked like mid-step. “Sam!” The younger Winchester startled at Dean’s tone, automatically standing at attention. “Gather everything now! We’re leaving!” And as Sam scrambled for their duffels Dean lifted the too-thin angel into his arms, rushing out to the Impala. As he laid her prone form across the cushions of the back seat he heard her whisper in his ear.  
“I’m so sorry Dean, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me…”  
He sighed. “Oh angel, I already have.”


	2. Dim

He couldn’t sleep. No, not now, not when Sammy was so far away, absent from his place in the next bed over. But still, Dean lay on top of the faded comforter, trying to will his frantic mind to calm. He needed sleep, or he wouldn’t be very functional tomorrow.   
A soft sound of fluttering wings pulled him out of his messy thoughts and he was awake and alert in seconds, a gun in hand and pointed at the figure at the end of his bed.   
“Dean.” The smoky voice automatically calmed him and he clicked the hammer of his colt back into place.   
“Chris, you need to call me before you just pop in. I almost shot you full of lead.” He stuffed his gun back under his pillow and started to sit up but a delicate hand stopped him mid-way.   
The angel didn’t speak and Dean was stunned into breathless silence as she pushed him down again, his body pliant and going along easily with her gentle direction. When he was once again on his back the angel gave him a look that clearly said to stay down. And he watched with morbid curiosity as she glided all around his bed and offered up minimal protest as she pulled off his boots, draped a conjured blanket over his legs, and dimmed the lights, creating shadows across their every feature.   
“What are you doing Christian?” he asked, feeling his cheeks flush when the angel started to pull off her heels and jacket. He became distracted with the way the blue of her dress cascaded down her thigh and startled when she laid herself beside him. He froze up in shock and disbelief. He was not prepared for this, but he had to admit to himself that it felt nice.   
“Dean,” the velvet of her voice called to him and he turned his gaze towards hers. The tender light in her eyes caught him off guard and his body rolled over without his permission. They were facing each other now, and he felt a swell of warmth invade his chest when her slim fingers wove themselves through his. “You have not been sleeping well. I can feel your exhaustion.”  
“Yeah well, hunters don’t get much sleep anyway.” He had no idea why he was whispering but anything louder just felt wrong for this moment.   
The angel hummed and she brought her other hand up to card through his hair. He felt his eyelids slip just a little further, the warmth in his chest expanding to the rest of his body. Then, as his mind drifted and his lids finally fell, he heard her whisper.   
“Rest Dean, you’re safe. I will be here when you wake.”  
He didn’t dream that night.


	3. Futile

He could feel the influence of the Mark coursing through his veins, a dark and dirty poison. It infected him like a cancer, just as deadly and just as incurable. His thirst for blood was even worse than when he was becoming a vamp. Every day was a struggle, the bloodlust threatening to turn him into something that he didn’t want to be. He’s morphing into a monster, one he’s not sure his family will be able to kill. And that was an even scarier thought, that he might hurt them, that he might even like it.   
“Dean.” The gentle call of his name tore him from his dark thoughts and he looked over at the doorway of his room to see his angel. She had shed her usual dress in favor of a pair of comfortable sweats he was pretty sure were Charlie’s and a black ACDC shirt that he was absolutely sure was his. She was practically drowning in the fabric and he felt a flare of pleasure at seeing it fall off of one shoulder, exposing a fine collarbone. “May I come in?”  
Dean chuckled, even after all this time and after all the crap that they waded through, Chris was still hesitant about them. “Of course Angel, it’s your room too.” Her smile was a breath of fresh air, filling his burning lungs with a cool relief. She glided to his side, jumping up onto the memory foam and pressing her thin frame flush with his back. Her breath caressed the back of his neck, making him shiver and he groaned when her skilled fingers started massaging out the stress-induced knots across his shoulders.   
“You’re thinking about the mark again, aren’t you?” Her voice was soft but sad, and he hated it.   
“And what if I am? Nothing is going to change. It’s my curse forever. I can’t just die, or I’ll become a demon. What I should do is just lock myself up, somewhere I can never escape from, a place where I can’t hurt anyone.”  
Christian let out a wounded little sound and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. He could feel her tears running across his skin and guilt welled up inside him. He twisted himself around, taking her into his arms and letting them fall into the mess of pillows that Chris liked on their bed. He had no idea what to say to comfort her so he just let her weep.   
Her words were partially muffled by his skin and her tears but he could hear her none the less. “You can’t say such things, not when everyone is working so hard to find a cure, Dean. I know that your faith is waning, but mine is not. Your resistance of the mark is not futile. Everyone in this bunker loves you, so don’t you dare say such things. Don’t you dare discredit our determination by giving up on yourself.” She lifted her head and he was helpless in the face of her sapphire gaze. “You are more precious than you can even know, my love. There is not a thing that I would not do to prevent that scenario. You will not pass any more of your days alone, not while your friends and family are here for you. Not while I am here. So please, do not say such things, please…”  
He was surprised to feel his own tears running down his cheeks. She reached out to him and used the pads of her thumbs to wipe them away. “Okay Angel, I won’t, I’ll try.”  
Her watery smile filled his heart to bursting.


	4. Erratic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this has some more OC's, some are integral to the storyline and some are not. Most of the kids are not, although I do focus a lot on Dean and Christian's son. 
> 
> Abdiel is an archangel, she was made between Lucifer and Raphael. I picture Felicity Jones as her actress. 
> 
> Micah is a prophet, she is specifically assigned to record the exploits of the angels and of heaven. Often times, she draws and paints about them instead of writing. The actress I'm using for her is Kate Bosworth. 
> 
> James is Dean and Chris' son.
> 
> Paisley is Gabriel's daughter. 
> 
> Daniel is Cas' and Micah's son. 
> 
> Henry is Sam and Amelia's son, but she just dropped him off on Sam's proverbial doorstep. Sam is an awesome Single Daddy (but not for long). 
> 
> And, because I love kid!fics, Dean has adopted Ben and Emma (from Slice Girls) and Cas has adopted Claire.

The frantic cry of his name brought Dean out of his mechanical trance and he booked it from the garage, rushing through the library and into the play-room. A few years back, when Henry was just a few months old the inhabitants of the bunker had decided that having a place for the kids to play was a good idea, even though Emma, Claire and Ben were too old for kids toys, it would be a nice place for them to read or play games. 

 

The three brothers had taken to the project with a kind of domestic ziel that they hadn’t felt since they realized that the bunker was their home. They started by stripping a large and dusty office right off the main hall from the library. It was huge and contained a fair amount of ancient relics and case files. They took out everything but a small writing desk, some comfy chairs, and a low lying table that could handle games and arts and crafts easily. They added a huge chest for toys and games. Micah and Abdiel designed and painted a mural of their makeshift family. Gabriel conjured up a giant and extremely fluffy rug and he assured everyone that it was stain resistant and easy to clean. Dean had rejoiced at that. 

 

It soon became a favorite spot for not only the kids but everyone else too. It was nice to take a few hours out of your day to just relax and play with the kids. And even though it was part of the wards that encompassed the bunker, they added a whole slew of sigils. It essentially became the most secure place in the world, besides Bobby’s panic room. It was decided that, if the bunker ever was attacked, that those who couldn’t fight would gather at the play room. 

 

And that’s where Dean skidded to a stop, frantically taking in the situation. The room looked normal, albeit a bit messy. Claire was curled up in a giant armchair, her nose buried in a book. Paisley was on the floor, helping Henry and Daniel build up a lego tower, and Charlie looked like she was kicking Ben’s butt in Mario Kart. But all of this domestic fluffiness fell away when he saw Christian and James on the floor. 

 

The angel was kneeling by the chubby ten-month-old, brilliant smiles on both their faces. Chris was in a black and white striped maxi dress and James matched with Dean’s red plaid and faded jeans. When the two of them saw him in the doorway they both beamed. “Dean! Come here, James is walking!” 

 

“You call that walking? It’s more like an erratic dance routine before tripping.” Claire barely looked up from her book to kick at Paisley’s head.

 

“Ow! You jerk! What was that for?!”

 

“That was for being insensitive. I’m sure you were just as clumsy when you started walking.”

 

“Girls please,” Chris murmured, giving the two a scathing look. It shut them up quickly. “Ok, Dean, you need to kneel right where you are and call for him.” She turned James around so he was facing the hunter. Dean grinned. 

 

“Ok, common little man, come to papa.” James giggled and started to put one foot in front of the other. He was doing really well, but then halfway through he started to sway. Both Dean and Chris dove to catch him, meeting in the middle, grabbing him together. James cried out in happiness and patted his parents heads, clearly amused by their collective worry.


	5. Loved

The process was nearly complete and he could practically taste his victory. Tomorrow he would be able to take out those cursed hunters once and for all. A wicked smile graced his semi-handsome features and he reached out tawny colored fingers to caress the pale cheek of his newest slave. “They’ll never know what hit them, will they, malaki?” 

 

Christian turned her head to kiss his palm, her once bright sapphire eyes losing their luster with every hypnotic wave that hit her. “Of course, my king.” 

 

====

 

Dean peered around the corner of the faded red barn, his green gaze sharp with complete concentration, a figure stood backlit, a huge bonfire blazing in the center of the clearing. He raised his cat-bone and papyrus shank and prepared himself to shove it through the god’s heart. But before he could even get within stabbing distance an invisible force hit him square in the chest, casting him to the side with ease. 

 

His head was pounding, his chest was burning, and his vision swam in front of his eyes. “What the hell?” He rolled over and staggered to his feet, facing the pagan god that was hypnotizing the people in town to kill each other. He was flashing a grin and Dean was stunned when he felt steel-like arms wrap around him and a thin blade against his throat. The body pressed up against his back was intimately familiar to him and he carefully turned his head to see his angel, her once beautiful blue eyes dimmed to a sickly gray. 

 

“What did you do to her you son of a bitch!” Dean shot his eyes back to the smug visage of Horus. The god was laughing, an unusually high pitched sort of chuckle. 

 

“Isn’t it obvious boy? I made her my slave. True, it took some time and a lot of power but she was distraught and I wormed myself under that chink in her armor. She didn’t stand a chance.” Horus moved over to where Dean had dropped his shank and tossed it into the fire. “Yes, it’s perfect, just perfect! And do you know why Winchester?”

 

Dean grit his teeth. “Why is it so damn perfect?”

 

“Because she loved you, and I’ve made her want to kill you.” 

 

A wave of guilt and anger swept over Dean. He knew he shouldn’t have let her go after what they said to each other, but his heart had been hurt than night too. He has to make this right, before they killed each other for real this time. “Christian, Angel, you have to listen to me.” He brought his hand up and clutched at the back of her neck. “Chris, whatever hold he has on you...you have to break it. You have to come back to us. We can’t save this world without you. Angel, please…” 

 

He waited for her response, testing her hold on him and watching in apprehension as Horus moved to the other side of the fire, getting ready to sacrifice him. A high pitched whine brought his attention back to Chris and he felt a rush of relief as the blade slipped away from his neck. He whirled around to face her, one hand going for her wrist and the other guiding her gaze to his. 

 

“Christian, snap out of this. You are a warrior and have power that would bring this douche to his knees. What I said was stupid and we hurt each other for no reason. Me, Sam, Cas...we need you ok? You’re important to us.”

 

Blue began to creep up into her irises again and pain twisted her lips into a grimace. “Dean?” 

 

“Yeah Angel, it’s me, Dean. I need your help, ok? This guy is going to kill us if we don’t kill him first.” Her blue eyes were back in full force once again and he grinned when she nodded her head. 

 

Defeating Horus came quickly after that. He distracted the god and Chris came up behind him. There was a sharp gleam in her eyes as she separated his head from his shoulders. And Dean watched in silence as she chucked the two bloody pieces into the bonfire; sparks flying up and painting her vicious snarl with orange and yellow. Tears rained down her face and a scream of frustration ripped from her throat. 

 

He was stunned, but not surprised. He kind of felt like screaming too. Instead, he quickly came around and wrapped her in his arms. She tangled her fingers in his jacket and sobbed into his neck. They didn’t speak, it wasn’t the time to. Instead, he brought her arms around his neck and lifted her up. It was time to go home.


	6. Soft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things...
> 
> So Christian calls Cas Achi, which roughly translates to 'my brother' in Hebrew.   
> He calls her Achoti, which means 'my sister'.   
> I just thought that they needed cute names for each other. 
> 
> In my own heaven headcannon, God made each angel and then gave them to Abdiel, who nurtured them with her grace until they were old enough to not need it. Then she would then give the fledgling to an older angel, who become guardians of the baby. Castiel and Christian (they were made at the same time) were given to Gabriel because only an archangel had enough power to nurture two fledglings at once. 
> 
> Oh and Micah is a little crazy. When Cas met her for the first time she was in a mental hospital. It's so much fun to write her character. :)
> 
> So, more exposition. There are such things as Angelic Mates, which doesn't necessarily mean love, but that their graces are compatible. If they like each other well enough then they can have a fledgling together. A long time ago Christian and Gadreel used to be angelic mates but their bond was severed when Gadreel was thrown in prison. Along the same lines, Castiel and Hannah used to be mates but their bond was severed when Cas rebelled for the first time.

She can feel the instinct rising up within her, taking over her every thought and action, the urge pushing her to fill her nest with the scents of her flock and family. 

 

===

 

It’s easy to steal a few items of clothing from Sammy. He was too preoccupied with digging into the Men of Letters Archives to notice her slipping into his room. Everything in the space was imbued with his ancient manuscript and spearmint scent and she stood for a bit just breathing it in before getting to work. She carefully selected a purple shirt with a sleek greyhound from his sleepwear drawer and found a big. Cardinal red Stanford sweater buried in the back of his closet with a faint trace of peaches and cream, what she believed was once Jessica’s scent.

 

Her favorite item, though, was a truly awful red and grey striped western style button up. It made her giggle and she wrapped it around herself as she flew to her nest, enjoying how much it dwarfed her figure.

 

===

 

Cassie didn’t have very many pieces of clothing, but he was steadily accumulating them so she thought it was safe to get at least three items. The grey running sweats with a huge zipper on the side was a must have and she even managed to confiscate one of his coveted royal blue ties. The third item she wanted was impossible to simply squirrel away, so she cornered her twin in a deserted stretch of hallway and tugged at the sleeve of his trench coat.

 

“Achi, I need your coat. Give it to me.” She knew that she sounded bossy but she was getting a little frustrated and a lot cranky. Maybe it was something about her tone of voice or the murderous glint in her eye, because he shrugged the tan material off his shoulders with little protest and a giant grin on his face. She snatched it from his hands and launched herself into his outstretched arms, inhaling petrichor and campfire right from the source. 

 

===

 

Gabriel was an entirely different challenge. He had way too many items to choose from and he kept his room so well locked up that she was sure not even Father could get in without a key. But, lucky for her there was a key and she had a number of clever allies to call upon. Hayel was eager to provide a distraction while she slipped into the trickster’s den, especially when she mentioned the word prank. In the end she got away with a Loki’s Army green sweater and a red velvet tuxedo; both items smelling of ocean breeze and strawberry licorice.

 

===

 

She made sure Kevin was busy with the angel tablet before she snuck into his room. It was surprisingly tidy, at least compared to the corner of the library that he usually inhabited when working on the translations. Now that she thinks about it though, it’s no wonder that he makes sure his notes stay out of his sleeping space, he gets so stressed when he works on it without rest...

 

“Stop worrying, everyone’s safe and Kevin receives an adequate amount of sleep nearly every night. Just focus on your mission.” She tiptoes her way over to his closet and smiles when the prophet’s fresh ink and overturned earth scent wafts from the open doors. Right in the front was a soft grey long sleeved henley that was just perfect. And upon further searching she found a pair of orange checkered pajama bottoms stuffed under his pillow.

 

===

 

She opted to actually ask Abdiel, instead of merely stealing what she wanted. The archangel had eyes in the back of her head and could smell trouble from a thousand miles away; you almost have to, especially when your little brother is the sneakiest prankster in heaven. It was bad enough having Gabe as their Guardian, she and Cassie would have never survived without Anna’s occasional intervention.

 

Abdiel just gave her a brilliant smile and access to her closet when Chris asked. The Seraphim blushed but accepted the embrace that the archangel offered, truly feeling for the first time that she was finally on the right path. It was a relief to see the red patterned dress, silk emerald hair scarf, and teal fleece cardigan find their way into her slowly growing nest; adding a gentle fragrance of frankincense and mir. 

 

===

 

It was almost pathetically easy to get to Balthazar’s wardrobe. He probably thought it was hidden really well, but she grew up with the moody angel and knows his mind like the back of her hand. She’s not surprised to find a wicked grin on her face when she confiscates his favorite jacket (a lovely black velvet blazer) and a hardly worn pair of olive green chinos. He’ll probably gripe and complain and search around when he finds them gone but they’re hers now. It’s imperative that she adds his aged scotch and honeysuckle scent to her nest, he’s one of her best friends. 

 

===

 

Getting to Eileen’s clothes was a little tricky, she had barely moved into the bunker, and the bond between her and everyone else was still a little tentative. She didn’t want to drive her away just because she wanted the woman’s citrus and fresh sheets smell in her nest; especially when it was obvious that Sam had a giant crush on the huntress.

 

In the end it was easiest to explain the situation and then ask (in the nicest way possible) for the items. Eileen was a little bewildered, but allowed Chris to take a rarely used dark pink blouse and a dark grey flare skirt. And when she asked the human to keep her condition secret, at least until she was finished, Eileen agreed with a small smile.

 

===

 

She got Bobby and Ellen in one fell swoop when they were visiting Sioux Falls. She slipped away while the two were distracted with the brothers and crept up the stairs without   
a sound. She was exhausted from the drive over so she indulged a few moments of rest, face down on the mattress, just taking in the blend of fresh brewed coffee, gunpowder, crisp apples and vanilla extract that made her think of sanctuary.

 

But she could feel herself drifting so she dragged herself up and started rifling through some drawers. A Singer Salvage t-shirt, some worn out jeans, one of the many ratty baseball caps that littered the wall, and a dark blue-grey button up found their way into her duffel, hidden until they could make it back to the bunker.

 

===

 

Even before she thought about approaching Father he was handing her a ratty blue and grey striped robe and a red zipped hoodie. “Here, Christian, you and Dean deserve this.” She could feel tears slipping down her face and a sob building in the back of her throat.

 

“Oh Father, thank you, thank you.” His bright blue eyes softened and his hand beckoned her forward. She fell against his front and reached out with her grace, basking in the light of his power and the smell of ozone and printer paper.

 

===

 

She raided Jo’s room while she and Hayel were on a rugaru hunt. The place was a mess, clothes and hunting supplies strewn about in equal measure. She couldn’t help but tidy up as she goes along (living in the same room as Dean Winchester is impossible unless its impeccable). There was a slim black tank top sitting on the back of a chair and a dark green sweater partially under the bed. They both smelled like butterscotch and fir trees.

 

Just as she was about to leave though, an extra and startlingly familiar scent caught her attention. Right by the door was a wooden chest, partially open, and wafting the scent of fireworks and tropical rain showers. Hayel, the Morningstar. She blushed in second-hand embarrassment but took the opportunity. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. In the chest was a slightly wrinkled men’s dress shirt and a blue plaid patterned scarf. She’s just glad she doesn’t have to journey into Hayel’s domain; he might not be Lucifer anymore, but he’s still just as cleaver. 

 

===

 

She wasn’t sure on how to get at Michael’s clothing. Not that it was hard or that she was worried about him being angry with her, not after gaining approval from both Abdiel and Father, but she was still slightly frightened of the archangel. He has changed, certainly, from the cold, unfeeling machine that dominated her memories of Heaven’s hierarchy. It wasn’t long after she and Cas were old enough to survive without Gabe’s nurturing grace that everything they knew fell apart. Every memory that she has of Michael is of a general, his fresh baked bread and matchstick scent clouded with anger and sorrow.

 

Abdiel must have sensed her apprehension because one afternoon she was surprised to find her and Michael right outside the room she was building her nest. Her first instinct was to attack the intruders (an angel’s nest was meant only for them and their mate, hence the instinct to gather the smells of their flock together), but both their wings drooped to the ground, a universal sign of peace.

 

The conversation that she had with Michael that day was the longest she’s ever even heard him speak, and by the end she was wrapped up in all six pairs of wings. Michael had even draped a warm leather jacket around her shoulders and tugged a grey cotton knit beanie over her head. She felt like a fledgling again for the first time in centuries.

 

===

 

She was lazing about one day, idly contemplating who she had left to pilfer from, when Micah came crashing through the door. The prophet’s blonde hair was in tangles and her watercolor and cinnamon scent was overlaid with pure excitement. “Chris!” Without another word she started stripping off her clothes, tossing a over-large red and grey flannel, a steel gray crop top, and a pair of ratty white-washed jeans onto the stunned angel. “This is so awesome! I can’t even handle it. Imma go find Cas!” She then launched herself from the room, wearing nothing but a bra and what she can only assume was a pair of Cas’ boxers.

 

A distant cry of “what the hell” indicated that Dean had also witnessed the not-quite streaker. Her brother’s mate was quite an...interesting specimen. 

 

===

 

“You’re building a nest for him.” The voice was flat, a statement of fact, carefully devoid of any emotion. 

 

“Gadreel.” This was the part that she’d been putting off till the end. She gathered herself for a second, steeling her nerves, before turning to face the rigid figure at her door. “Yes I am.”

 

His gaze was unbearably sad and the familiar smell of pine and herbal tea made her stomach tie itself into knots. “I had hoped, before I received my assignment to The Garden, that someday you would be building a nest for me.”

 

She fought back the stinging behind her eyes and dug her nails into the clothes she had been arranging. “As did I, once.”

 

There was silence, heavy emotions clouding the air, both of them mourning a long dead dream. 

 

“But you’re in love with him, an emotion that you would have never been able to feel for me.” He stepped forward and draped a simple maroon t-shirt over a nearby chair. “I’d rather you be happy with him, than miserable with me. I just hope that you still consider me a flockmate.”

 

“Of course,” she choked. A sad little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he took his leave, shutting the door between them. 

 

===

 

Today was the day. It was finally complete and she was ready to share this space with her mate. Dean went along easy enough, accepting her blindfold with only a few words of protest. She took his hand and lead him up, to the very top of the bunker and the rarely used observatory. Sunlight filtered down through the complicated warding symbols she had covered every piece of glass in. Candles lit up the rest of the space, surrounding a visibly soft nest of clothes, sheets, blankets, and pillows that dominated the open floor plan. 

 

“Dean,” she gently tugged his head down to give him a kiss, “my love, my mate,” she whispered the words against his lightly stubbled jaw. Her fingers trailed up into his hair and pulled the cloth from his eyes. “Welcome to our nest.” His brilliant green eyes took in the sight and his leather and cherry pie scent got thicker with emotion.

 

“Why did you make a nest, Angel?” His voice was rough and she brings their joined fingers down to rest on the tell-tale bump that wasn’t there a few weeks ago. “Really?” he asked, hope shining through his rapidly filling eyes. She nodded and they both beamed with joy.


	7. Hold

It’s just around two in the morning when he finds them, and a flood of relief washes through him. He had only started really panicking when he woke from a nightmare to find the other side of the nest empty and cold. He had searched the bunker’s main areas and was just about to wake the others when he spotted a light coming from under the garage door. Chris was sitting in the back seat of the Impala, little James swaddled and fast asleep in her arms.

 

“Hey Angel,” he whispers as he slides in next to her. “What are you doing out here?” She does not reply for a few moments and he’s a bit alarmed when he sees her adjust her grip on the angel blade in her hand.

 

“Dean, do you know how old James is?” Her beautiful sky blue eyes meet his and he can see how frightened she is despite her fierce exterior.

 

“He’s got to be around six months…Oh.” All his confusion vanishes in an instant. Of course, of course his beautiful and supernatural wife would be spending this particular night in the safest place that she knows. Of course she would be clutching at their son with one arm while the other wields the most dangerous weapon in their arsenal. Of course she would be scared enough that crystal tears trailed down her pale cheeks.

 

His nightmare makes sense now and the very same acrid smoke that woke him just minutes before rises up in his lungs again, phantom-like and intent on choking him. The soft call of his name pulled him from his memories and his eyes focus in on Chris. “Hold me?” she pleads and it rips the heart right out of his chest to hear how desperate and broken it sounds.

 

He closes the distance between them and in seconds is cradling her cold body in the concave of his, wrapping his mate and his son in his arms. She silently hands the blade off to him and curls around James, pushing her chilled nose into the mint green baby blanket Missouri had sewn bright yellow protection sigils into.

 

They didn’t move for the rest of the night, staying vigil and tense for the next five hours. When they emerge from the garage around seven in the morning Cas just quietly and gently lifts James from Chris’ arms, giving them a nudge to their nest. The exhausted couple eagerly climb back into the tangle of sheets and quickly drop into a nightmare-free sleep.


	8. Shackles

“Chris, I’m going to go get the blood for Dean, but I need you to watch him, ok? I’m pretty sure that he can’t escape, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”

 

“Sam, I rarely say this to you, but this idea is awful. If Dean’s power is anything similar to Abbadon’s than I would struggle taking him on with my full grace. I suggest we wait for Castiel and Hannah to arrive before either one of us is potentially left defenseless against him.”

 

Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his good hand. And not for the first time today she feels sorrow over the fact that she cannot simply heal his shoulder. Ever since Castiel was tricked by Metatron into giving him his grace they’ve been sharing hers. She’s just grateful that they possessed the ability to do so. She cannot think about what kind of condition her twin would have been in had they not, probably dying. She shuddered at the thought and reminded herself that having a weak grace was better than an existence without Castiel. She has already been through that once and it was the worst year of her entire existence. 

 

“Chris, the longer the wait, the more difficult it’ll become to keep him contained. Don’t you want him back as soon as possible?” 

 

“Of course I do! Don’t even imply things like that Sam. I still don’t like it, but I concede to your point. Just, please, return as soon as possible.”

 

Sam sighed with relief, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. “I’ll be a few hours at the most Chris, just keep one eye on him at all times okay?” The Seraphim nodded and clasped her hand with his for a moment, reaffirming her determination. 

 

As soon as Sam was out of sight she leaned against the concrete wall, gathering her wits before entering the dungeon where her love was bound in shackles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the sharing grace theory is a little far-fetched but they're angelic twins, so yeah. 
> 
>  
> 
> The year without Cas that she's talking about is the year that he and Dean were in Purgatory.


	9. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct continuation of the previous prompt.

“Hey, there’s my Angel, why don’t you come over here little bird, I’d love to get my claws into those pretty wings of yours.” The demon drawled, leering at her from his place in the middle of a devil’s trap.

 

She said nothing in reply, struggling to disassociate the Knight of Hell before her from the Righteous Man she knew was still in there somewhere, calling out to her through their bond.

 

“C’mon sweetheart, I won’t bite, not unless you beg me to. I know how much a slut you are for my mouth.”

 

She felt bile rise up in the back of her throat. This isn’t Dean talking, it’s the mark. “My love, if you can hear me, we are doing everything in our power to bring you back, even if I have to travel to the depths of hell to do so. I once pulled you from that torturous place under orders from Heaven, this time will be because I know just how special you are. I love you, come back to me.”

 

The demon just laughed. “Such pretty words for a soul so broken. No need for a trip down under. I am Dean! Just new and improved, without all those pesky feelings and morals that held me back before. The Dean you knew is dead!

 

“Stop! I refuse to believe that he’s gone. When Sam returns, we’ll start the ritual of purified blood and cure you of this taint.”

 

“Oh Angel, if you think these things can chain me forever then you have another thing coming. When I escape, and I will escape, I’m coming for you.” His voice dropped, softened and she took a reluctant step forward to hear, his hypnotic green gaze pulling her in. “I’m going to tear up your borrowed body and coat every one of those white feathers with your blood.” She recoiled at his words and the sudden sight of his black eyes. He called after as she stumbled from the room, “And when I find that little ball of light that you call a grace I’m going to eat it!”

 

She barely made it past the door before she was dry heaving onto the floor.


	10. Precious

When she was an angel she never had to worry about how hot or cold a place was. Temperature never affected her the way it did the humans that had already become so precious to her. So, when the Winchester’s got trapped in a secluded cabin in the Rockies it was easy for her to kill the Wendigo they were hunting and get back to them. They were huddled together on the only bed (bed is a loose term, it was more like a sagging mattress settled on a vague sort of metal frame) trying to stay warm with only a small space heater; shivering and barely conscious.

 

A strong wave of worry washed over her and she reached out to them with her grace, slowly bringing up their core temperatures to what they normally were. Sam runs a little hotter than Dean, she noted. After a moment they start to come back from their stupor and she smiled at them as they stirred.

 

“Dean, Sam, how are you feeling?” They start to shake and she remembers reading that that’s a good sign. It means their bodies are taking active roles in keeping them warm. But she’s still worried, they could revert if she leaves them.

 

“Oh Father, what should I do?” she murmured to herself, brushing her fingers through Sam’s chestnut colored hair. Then an idea popped into her head and she quickly went through with it before she could second guess herself. She nudged the semi-conscious brothers to the side and slotted herself into the newly open space. She projected her grace out, radiating heat from her vessel. The boys automatically shifted closer, seeking out her warmth. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks, but for the first time in a long time, she felt content...useful.

 

\-------

 

Now that she’s human she feels...everything. The heat, the cold, the bitter taste of her uselessness. But she’s even worse than useless now, she’s needy. When she inhabited this vessel she never bothered to fix the DNA deep problems that went along with it. She now has a difficult time eating all sorts of foods so she needs a special and expensive diet. She reacts violently towards anything with pollen so she needs to have all the spell herbs put away. But worst of all she now has terrible blood circulation so she needs the temperature up or several layers of cumbersome clothing on at all times. She feels hot tears welling up in her eyes even as her freezing body huddles under the covers. She has never felt so powerless in her entire existence.

 

The motel door opens and she can’t help the wretched sob that escapes her lips. She doesn’t want Sam or Dean seeing her like this, seeing her as even weaker than she already is. She curls her knees up to her chest and pulls the blankets over her head. She can hear them whispering to each other and she shakes even harder. If only she was brave enough to take her needy body somewhere else, a place where she doesn’t have to be a burden to her friends, but no. No, she’s too much of a coward and too selfish to do even that.

 

Her tears haven’t stopped by the time she feels Dean (not Sam because he would have made the bed dip deeper) perch himself on the edge of the mattress. “Hey Angel,” he starts, his voice taking on a softness that he sometimes gets. “Are you cold?”

 

She can’t stop her head from nodding. She will always respond when Dean asks. There’s a pause and she can practically feel complementary gazes of green boring into her. She shudders again and slips down deeper into the blankets. She can’t see anything but the threadbare sheets but she can imagine the sort of wonderfully complicated conversation Sam and Dean are having with only their facial expressions. It never ceases to amaze her what they can communicate with an uplifted brow or a quirked lip. It’s one of the many things that make them amazing.

 

She obviously lost herself in her train of thought because she’s startled when, not one, but two long bodies slipped themselves under the covers with her. She ripped the fabric from her face and watched in a shocked stupor as Sam pressed the entirety of his 6’4” frame up against her back and Dean settled his only slightly shorter self at her front. She was absolutely stunned and not entirely sure what to do.

 

Dean spoke again. “Remember that Wendigo case in Sun Valley? We had rented a crap cabin for all of two days when the snowstorm of the century blew in. We couldn’t even open the front door, let alone hunt. You single handedly slayed that son of a bitch and then kept us from dying of hypothermia.”

 

Sam piped up then and she could feel his hot breath over her head with every word. “Yeah Chris, we probably would have frozen if it wasn’t for you. We just, want to make sure you don’t either.” She can feel a rushing in her chest that made it impossible for her to speak without choking so she did the next best thing.

 

She slowly let herself relax and straighten out. The brothers shifted a little with her. They all three end up flush together, sharing body heat. Sam’s knees slotted against her own as one tanned arm settled around her waist and the other became her pillow; his lips were pressed against her hair. Dean’s legs were entangled with her own, their hands clutching at the others; his forehead was pressed against her own and they shared breath.

 

Between them, just the same as a few years ago, she felt a little more useful, a little less needy. She felt more like an angel.


End file.
